Weathered
by Legendary Armor
Summary: The journey from Georgia to salvation is going to be a long one. Oneshot. Nick x Ellis.


_"Been trading love with indifference... yeah, it suits me just fine. I try to hold on, but I'm calloused to the bone... Maybe that's why I feel so alone."_

* * *

Their faces glowed, lit by the flames devouring the hotel they were so desperately trying to escape. Smoke obscured their vision, made it impossible to breathe, and all the while they fought and fought, the shock of the situation keeping their minds from registering the horror of slaughtering the Infected.

And when they tumbled into that first safe room, he thought to breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, a moment to rest.

...And then, even covered in blood and still coughing, that kid - Ellis? - started talking. And talking.

And _talking_.

Nick looked away, irritated. This was going to be one hell of a long apocalypse.

* * *

"Jesus, man, turn the alarm off!"

Ellis kept screaming at him through the door, but the horde blocked him from the other three, beating and hissing at him as he tried to reach for the switch. But they just kept coming, and no matter how many he blew apart with his shotgun, there were more to replace them. His blood ran cold as a Hunter crawled through the other door among the Infected, red eyes glittering at him with malice.

...And Ellis blew its face clean off as he pushed himself to Nick's side.

Surprised, the older man shut the ringing off, and the mall fell mostly quiet save for the moans of scattered zombies in the area. Discomfort ate at his mind. A lone wolf, being saved by a stranger; someone so naive and carefree. It didn't sit well with him.

Christ knew he was a loner for a reason.

* * *

He'd thought the kid rambling on and on about that asshole's racecar would be the worst. His eyes narrowed in frustration as he was proven wrong by the carnival.

"I wanna ride one! Just one! Just lemme ride the Screaming Oak once. Man, when we ever gonna be here again?"

He didn't even justify it with a response this time. What made the kid get under his skin so bad? He wasn't any of the things Nick was; suave, a loner, an asshole. _I'm __**definitely**__ an asshole_, he thought to himself, almost as a reassurance. Then he remembered giving some pills to Ellis but a few hours ago. Pills he should have kept for himself. Viciously, he pushed the thought aside.

As if she read his mind, Rochelle quietly said with a smile, "He's a free spirit."

"He's annoying as hell," the con man replied coldly.

Rochelle just laughed. "Why do you hate him so much? Did you used to be like that, before you turned into a grumpy old man?"

Nick snorted. "I'd hope I was never that stupid."

* * *

One of those goddamn mudmen got him.

His face was covered in sludge. He couldn't see anything. He had no time to wipe it off, because he had Christ knows how many Infected on his ass, but he couldn't do anything about it because he was blind.

"Shit! I gotcha, man!"

Ellis whooped as his pistols fired twice, four times, eight times, and kept going and going. The seconds felt like decades to Nick, who was frantically getting the crap off of his face, until finally the shots ceased for a moment. He blinked his eyes open after wiping them on one spot of his shirt that didn't have as much crap on it as the rest of it. Ellis stood there, a triumphant grin on his face, covered in swamp water and gore. "Man, I'm just gonna have to stay at your side, you keep gettin' yourself into shit like that!"

"That sounds _fantastic_."

As he took a couple of pills and steadied himself to keep walking, he thought maybe that wouldn't be so bad if the kid just saved his ass again - it wasn't exactly the first time - no matter how much he wouldn't shut the hell up.

Maybe he wasn't so bad, after all.

* * *

Screams and footsteps deafened them as the Infected gave chase, the thunderous roar of the Tank not far behind. Nick's lungs ached as he breathed heavily, winded from the fight from moments before. In front of him, Ellis kept the pace, strong and cheerful as ever. Despite the blood streaming from a deep gash on his leg. Despite the pain in his eyes.

And then, he faltered.

He tripped, his leg finally giving out. He screamed as he hit the ground, all too aware of what it could mean. In front of him, Coach and Rochelle kept hobbling - the reporter was trying to help the older man walk, as his knee had given out earlier when a Charger slammed into him. Ellis tried to get up, but the adrenaline pumping through him was fast fading, and the pain was taking far too much of a hold on him. He wavered, falling again as he tried to stand.

In the back of his mind, Nick wasn't so surprised with himself when he picked him up, looping one of Ellis' arms around his neck and helping him run. "Come on, dipshit. It's not that much further."

For once, Ellis didn't say anything. He just smiled, a little drop of blood sliding across his cheek.

* * *

Their nerves were all wound tight as the sobbing echoed through the mill, soft rain chilling them as they walked. A Witch wandered out from the building to the right, just inside Nick's peripheral vision.

"Shit, there's another one right there."

"Huh? Where?" Ellis spun around, looking, and the Witch stopped dead in her tracks, raising her head as if to listen for the intruding sound.

Forgoing speech, Nick settled for clamping his hand over the mechanic's mouth. Something in the back of his mind registered how cold his lips were on his hand, his stubble scratching at his palm.

"One on the left too," Rochelle whispered as quietly as she could. "We gotta pass one."

"Let's just hide behind those bushes or something and wait for them to walk by," Nick replied, his hand leaving Ellis' face. "If one finds us, it finds us. We'll have to fight either way."

As Ellis settled in behind the shrubs, huddling close to Nick, the older man noted that Ellis almost looked... sad. It wasn't just the raindrops, sliding down his chilly skin. It was something in his eyes, the way his always-smiling lips were turned in the slightest of frowns.

"Ellis, sweetie?" Rochelle asked. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head for a moment. "Nothin', nothin'. Just, the cryin'. It sounded almost like my..." He stopped abruptly, and shook his head again. "Nevermind, nevermind."

Nick studied him for a moment longer, wondering at his concern. Ellis never stopped his stories on his own like that.

The witch wandered by, and they huddled there, silent and aware.

* * *

"Stand still for a goddamn second."

Carefully, Nick cleaned the gashes on Ellis' right arm. His shooting arm. They'd stopped bleeding, at least. Ellis didn't even wince as Nick bandaged the injury with all the tenderness of a mother, his concentration on the task absolute and unwavering. "...There. Don't make me have to do it again."

Ellis beamed at him. "Thanks, man. You're a real life-saver, you know?"

He shrugged, his face a little flustered. "Yeah, whatever."

On the other side of the room, Coach rolled his eyes and Rochelle just laughed quietly to herself. Nick pretended he didn't notice and handed Ellis his bottle of pills.

* * *

Nick stayed close to Ellis as they navigated the cemetery, Rochelle and Coach right behind them. Once again, the mechanic was quiet. As he blew the head off a nearby zombie, he turned closer to the younger man. More softly than he would have imagined possible, he asked, "What's wrong, sport?"

Ellis looked away, his grip on his AK-47 tightening. His knuckles turned white, and he bit his lip before he relaxed a moment.

"I don't... I don't like this. Bein' in a place like this, when we already been killin', and I... I can't..." He shook his head, unsure of his words. "Man, I don't wanna be a downer or nothin'. Forget it."

"Sure, whatever."

That night, Nick slept closer to Ellis than he should have. And when the nightmares came, as Nick thought they would, he watched his anguished face, and held his warm and calloused hand in his own. Something about it made him feel better. He drifted off to sleep like that, his own nightmares held at bay for once.

* * *

The city vanished beneath them as the chopper flew higher, leaving the Infected behind. Damn, weren't they a sight to see. Bruised, bloodied, and exhausted, but goddammit, they were alive.

Nick stared out of the window silently, offering no objections as Ellis sat beside him, exhausted. He leaned on the older man, mumbling. "I knew it. I knew we was gonna make it..." A smile tugged at Nick's lips at the words, his injuries momentarily forgotten in the exhilaration of escape. He didn't move, content to let Ellis sleep there. Rochelle smiled at them, and Coach laughed to himself.

Maybe he'd learned a thing or two about himself, besides staying alive.

Maybe this new life wouldn't be all that bad.

* * *

_**end**_


End file.
